


it is not enough to be dumbstruck

by ShutUpPercy



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, F/F, is it a particular au? no. i made it up, literally this is a MESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShutUpPercy/pseuds/ShutUpPercy
Summary: Annabeth's future has been planned out for her since the day she was born.  She just didn't anticipate befriending the girl whom she'd have to kill to see it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reynabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynabeth/gifts).



> top tip: don't try introducing your own concept in a fanfic for the first time when the fanfic has a deadline oh god
> 
> anyway this is for my lovely girlfriend anna's secret santa!! and i apologise for the lateness omfg i hope it's at least somewhat understandable

 

The water rose in a spiral, expanding and stretching into a shimmering sculpture reminiscent of a building from one of the girl’s picture books.  She flexed her wrist, pulling at the liquid and twisting it into the shape she wanted.

 

_ “Annabeth!” _

 

A hand closed around the girl’s much smaller wrist, cutting off any control she had and sending the water crashing back into the pond.  The girl flinched and turned to face the woman who had reprimanded her.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?   You don’t want banded, do you?  You’ve been told  _ never _ to do that in public.”

 

The scolding and rhetorical questions quietened so as not to attract attention, but they continued in a steady stream.  The girl responded only with small nods, and stared back at the woman with large, grey eyes which already held defiance.

 

* * *

 

“Why can’t I find any records of whoever held my power before me?” the girl asked.

 

She was older, now; leaning against the doorframe with her blonde curls tucked into a ponytail and her expression one of anger and determination.

 

The woman’s hands paused, hovering above her keyboard.  Slowly, she turned around in her office chair.  She was smiling.

 

“From your tone and your intelligence, I’d say you’ve already figured out the answer to that.”

 

The girl swallowed, her shoulders slumping as if the reply was both unsurprising and unwelcome.  “I’m an Origin.”

 

For a few long moments, the woman studied her.  “Yes, you are.”  When the girl didn’t say anything more, she continued, “It’s not that big a deal, honestly.  Most of us in the organisation inherit our power from a previous owner, right?  And, originally, that power was extracted from an Origin Stone.  You just got yours directly from a Stone, and you’ll be the first pass it down in the future.”

 

Staring at the floor, the girl murmured, “Okay.”

 

“We were going to tell you when you turned fourteen, if you hadn’t worked it out by then,” the woman offered.  “Anyway, off you go.  I have work to do.  We can talk about it at dinner.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s another organisation?”

 

“Yes, there is.”

 

The tension could be cut with a knife.

 

“And you’re fighting with them.”

 

“No!”  Bringing her wrists to her temples, the woman took a deep breath.  The girl only glared back, and the woman looked away.  “Annabeth, we’re allied.”

 

“Then why do I have to  _ kill someone? _ ”

 

“When we’re extracting power from a Stone, we can’t give it all to one child.  It’s too much for a newborn to handle,” the woman said, the words’ softness a contrast to the girl’s anger.  “We split it between the two organisations - the Reds and the Blues - and one organisation claims it back later.  It’s been tradition for thousands of years.”

 

“There are two Origins?” the girl asked.  Before the woman could reply, she shook her head and kept talking.  “That doesn’t matter.  Why can’t both Origins live?  It would double the number of people with powers, and power dilutes over time anyway.”

 

“If that was the case, the organisations  _ would _ be fighting,” the woman explained.  “Not everyone is as against the idea of power as you are.”

 

The girl quietened.  After a long minute, she murmured, “I thought at least my birthdays could be normal, but apparently I have to murder someone when I’m sixteen.  Or be murdered by them.”  She stared at her hands for a few moments, then flinched.  “Is that why you never let me call you ‘mum’?  Because I might die?”

 

“No!”  The woman’s expression filled with horror and guilt.  “No, honey, it’s just… you weren’t my child, and… that was never the reason, I promise.”

 

The girl shrugged noncommittally and said, “I’m going to my room.”

 

* * * * *

 

It was already dark, and the plastic handles of four shopping bags dug into Annabeth’s palms as she walked.  “I’m just saying, ‘Blue Organisation’ is a mouthful, and it doesn’t even sound nice.  You should think about an abbreviation.”

 

Athena raised an eyebrow.  “What, do you think people will take us seriously if we call ourselves ‘B.O.’?”

 

Annabeth snorted and reconsidered.

 

Christmas was approaching.  It was a strange event for a group whose purpose existed around science and supernatural powers to acknowledge, yet it was probably their most celebrated occasion.  Athena had once tried to explain it during a conversation over dinner, by saying that it was about family rather than religion.  Annabeth had nodded seriously and said, “yeah, you’re right,  _ Athena _ .”   Athena hadn’t spoken for the rest of the meal.

 

The organisations weren’t about family.  They were about tearing families apart, and raising children as weapons with the consent of no one but the governments that funded them.

 

Not that Annabeth was bitter.

 

Her relationship with Athena wasn’t awful; it just wasn’t particularly good, either.  When a younger Annabeth had come to her for help with homework or friendship drama, Athena had always been quick to remind her that it wouldn’t matter after a few years.  She choreographed Annabeth’s training, which was consistently grueling and always left Annabeth short of breath and temper.  She never failed to make it clear that she wasn’t Annabeth’s mother, only her carer, and that Annabeth’s place in the organisation was more important than anything else.

 

Still, Athena had been Annabeth’s carer since the day she was born and plucked out of an unknown mother’s arms to join the Blues.  She had grown up with her stern eyes and rare smiles.  Thinking about it only ever made Annabeth feel conflicted and angry.

 

Someone started shouting across the road, and Annabeth quickened her pace.  Athena followed.  It wasn’t as though they couldn’t defend themselves, but Annabeth preferred to stay out of street fights.

 

Then a fire started.

 

Annabeth jumped violently as flames struck the pavement ahead of them.  She glanced frantically at Athena.  “Should I -”

 

“No.”  Athena had stopped walking, and was squinting at the commotion.  “I think…”  She bit her lip, then swore and dropped the bags she was carrying.  “Stay here, Annabeth,” she said, before sprinting across the street.

 

Breathing fast, Annabeth watched as Athena rushed to help.  The pieces came together as she saw the source of the fire; it was spilling out of a girl’s hands as she argued with someone, the anger in her voice carrying through the air.  She caught sight of Annabeth, and Annabeth’s blood ran cold.

 

Reyna wasn’t a close friend; just someone whom Annabeth shared a few classes with and had fostered a quiet crush on since the start of the school year.  She had a bright smile and muscled arms and generally kept to herself, and when Annabeth succeeded in coaxing a laugh out of her, the sound always sent her away with pink cheeks.

 

Reyna had powers, and Annabeth hadn’t ever seen her at a meeting.  She was a Red.

 

Several thousand years ago, two women had discovered a rare type of gemstone which held a permanent energy; one which could be manipulated by humans.  The energy could be transferred from any non-living object to any living creature, and usually took form in an aptitude for the manipulation and creation of certain elements.  The women founded the original organisation, and picked friends and family to take on powers.  Over the years, the organisation expanded, split into two, and spread around the world in pairs, searching for more Origin Stones.  Now, with around 12,000 lines of power worldwide, they were rarely found.  There were rumours that Annabeth’s Stone was one of the last.

 

“Who is she?  How does she know my name?” Reyna demanded, pointing at something on the ground.  She was backed into a wall, and it took a second for Annabeth to realise that the shape on the pavement was an unconscious body.

 

More fire tumbled from Reyna’s hands, and Athena stepped forward and grabbed her forearms.  Annabeth winced as bands of metal wrapped around Reyna’s wrists, effectively cutting off her power.

 

“You realise you’re in the middle of a street?” Athena hissed, just loudly enough that Annabeth could hear.  She turned to the woman Reyna was with.  “Bellona, I don’t know what you teach them -”

 

“This wasn’t by any encouragement of the organisation,  _ Athena _ ,” the woman - Bellona - said, her tone biting.  

 

“I don’t care about encouragement, she needs to know it’s unacceptable,” Athena said, scathingly.  She lowered her voice, and the conversation continued in words Annabeth couldn’t make out.  After long, aching minutes in which the two women argued and Reyna leaned against the wall, scowling, Athena turned on her heel and stalked back to where Annabeth was still standing.

 

“Don’t ask me any questions,” Athena said quietly, her undertones warning enough of the consequences.  Annabeth nodded, and picked up the shopping bags.

 

* *

“Who was it?”

 

“The sister, we think.”

 

“She had a  _ sister _ ?”  Annabeth pressed her ear harder against the door as she listened to the video call between her carer and Bellona.  “We’re supposed to take the kids from places they’re not wanted.”

 

“We didn’t think she was.  The father was abusive, the mother died in childbirth, and the sister was only six years old.”

 

“Six?  How did she find her?”

 

“They look similar, now.  Our guess is that she shouted the name she remembered because she had nothing to lose, and…”

 

“We need to stop keeping the names.  It’s not as if we recognise them when we’re a day old.”

 

“Our names are the only things we have left.”

 

“We don’t need  _ anything _ from our biological families.  I’m bringing it up at the next council, and I expect that you will support my case after earlier.  What are you doing with the sister?”

 

“We have someone who can wipe memories -”

 

“I know.  I was friends with the Origin he killed for it.”

 

Neither woman talked for a long time.  Eventually, Bellona started, “You realise they…”

 

Athena cut her off again.  “Yes, I do.  It’s why I wanted to keep them separated, and why I want to talk to you as little as possible.  I know it’s…  Bellona, just look after her.  I’ll look after ours, and we’ll see how things go in July.”

 

“Goodnight, Athena.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

* *

 

Annabeth pushed through the corridors, intentionally not looking where she was going in fear that she would catch sight of the person she wanted to see least.  Her mind had been running in circles since the previous night, frantically trying to piece together what had happened and what it had meant.

 

It didn’t matter, she’d concluded.  If she could avoid Reyna until July, she’d get her answer in the most painless way possible.

 

Unfortunately, Reyna hadn’t come to the same conclusion.

 

When something grabbed her arm, Annabeth assumed it was just due to the busy corridor, and it wasn’t until she was dragged halfway to an empty classroom that she started struggling.  The fight lasted half a minute, breathless and blind and violent, before her attacker had Annabeth pinned against a wall.

 

Annabeth tried to get away, but Reyna was physically stronger.  She glared as she caught her breath, her black eyes flashing in the dark classroom.  “When’s your birthday?”

 

Annabeth stared for a second, before whispering, “The twelfth of July.”  She watched for a reaction, hoping that Reyna was just a normal Red.  She had to be.  Two Origins wouldn't be put in the same school.

 

Reyna stumbled backwards and swore, loudly enough that Annabeth worried she would attract a teacher.  “Fantastic,” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.  She clenched her fists.  “Who was that woman?”

 

“What?”

 

“You saw her,” Reyna snapped.  For some reason, she still had bands on her wrists.  Annabeth wondered whether the Reds had anyone who could control metal to take them off.  “She’s been following me around recently.  Bell - my carer won’t tell me how she knows my name.”

 

“She’s your sister, I think,” Annabeth said quietly.  Her heart rate was a thousand times faster than it should have been.  “Look, if you hurt me, there’ll be hell to pay -”

 

“What?” Reyna blinked.  “I didn’t… why would I hurt you?”  Annabeth’s shaking hands must have answered the question, because she took a long breath and said, “I didn't ask for this.”

 

“No Origin did.”

 

Reyna flinched.  “Right.  Okay.”

 

“That’s…”  She was on solid floor, but Annabeth felt vaguely like she was on the deck of a sinking ship.  “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“What  _ did _ you mean?”

 

Annoyed, Annabeth met her eyes.  Reyna gazed back coolly, any emotions perfectly masked.  “In July, the ceremony will happen whether we want it to or not.  We can just stay apart until then.  I doubt we were supposed to go to the same school, anyway.”

 

“ _ Ceremony _ ,” Reyna scoffed.  “We’ll be put in an arena and be told to kill each other.”  She spent a few seconds considering, then looked away.  “Fine.  We should get to class.”

 

They’d been in the classroom for perhaps five minutes, and they had changed Annabeth’s life.  Not that there was much of it left, if Reyna’s physical strength said anything of her powers.

 

“Yeah.”  Annabeth stared at Reyna for a moment, trying to replace all the little things they'd shared over the past few months with the fact that she was decidedly an enemy, and left the classroom.

 

* *

 

Three hours later, Annabeth’s head was still ringing.  It shouldn't have mattered.

 

Maybe she was lucky.  It would have hurt more if she had maintained an oblivious friendship with Reyna over the year and been faced with her in the arena when July came.

 

But she didn't want to kill Reyna.  And she didn't want to die.

 

She walked into her Modern Studies class three minutes late, deliberately looking away from where Reyna sat.  However, no one was sitting.

 

“Thanks for joining us, Annabeth,” her teacher said.  Annabeth flashed him a sheepish smile as she glanced around the room.  The teacher continued, “I just thought we’d move the seating plan around, thanks to some people failing to keep quiet during recent classes.”

 

A small group of kids protested, but the teacher held up his hand and began reading out names. Biting her lip, Annabeth stood awkwardly by one of the walls, until -

 

“Annabeth, beside Reyna.”

 

Annabeth froze.  Reyna was across the classroom, beside one of the last empty seats and wearing an expression of absolute exasperation.

 

She must have paused for longer than she thought she did, because the teacher added.  “Now, please.  If you're in an argument, it ends here.”

 

Shakily, Annabeth made her way to the seat.  Reyna raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  The teacher was still watching her, so she said, “We’re not arguing, sir.”

 

Reyna shifted her seat away slightly; just enough to make Annabeth wince, while still being surreptitious.  “Just a… family feud, I guess,” she said airily.  Annabeth flashed a look of gratitude, but she wasn’t watching.  “We’re not meant to be talking, at the moment.”

 

“Well, that works out just fine, then,” their teacher said brightly.  “You shouldn't be talking outside of collaborated work.”  The rest of the class chuckled, and he added, “Anyway, I don't agree with bringing kids into family arguments.  You’ll sit where the seating plan tells you to.”

 

Annabeth half-considered faking bad eyesight to get away from her place at the back of the class, but Reyna looked resigned.  She managed a smile, and the teacher continued assigning the last of the seats.

 

“So, Romeo and Juliet, huh?” Reyna said quietly when the lesson started.

 

“Not funny,” Annabeth hissed back.

 

Annabeth wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the whole situation.  She was upset, of course, and slightly fearful, but the shock of learning that Reyna was the other Origin of her power hadn’t quite worn off yet.  It left her with the knowledge of what would happen in July without the emotion that should have accompanied it.  More annoyingly, the quiet crush Annabeth had been nurturing had blossomed overnight into something much more awkward and much more inappropriate.

 

At one point, Annabeth set down her pen and muttered, “I can’t deal with this.”

 

Reyna’s expression didn’t change.  “My presence, or the work?”

 

“Shut up.”  Annabeth glanced at her, took in her sharp jawline and glowing bronze skin and deep black hair, and looked away again.  “I’m coping perfectly fine with the work, thank you.”

 

Letting a smile loose, Reyna tilted her head until Annabeth met her eyes again.  Annabeth let her gaze slide to her wrists.  They were still laced with metal, but the intricate patterns looked more like bracelets than the thick cuffs Athena was a fan of.  Annabeth nodded towards it, curiously.

 

Reyna bit her lip and briefly scanned the kids around them, apparently considering how to word her answer in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion.  “I got… grounded for last night,” she said eventually.

 

Annabeth gave her a sympathetic look, then winced.  She shouldn’t be expressing any sort of solidarity with Reyna.  Yet…

 

“Can we talk, at lunch?”

 

Reyna gave a smile that could have been a grimace.  “I think we need to.”

 

* *

 

They left the classroom together, and silently walked to a quiet corner of the cafeteria.

 

Annabeth spoke first.  “Why didn’t you tell Bellona that you knew me?”

 

*Why didn’t you tell Athena that you knew  _ me? _ ”

 

“Don't answer a question with a question,” Annabeth snapped.  “You must have heard the video call.  You knew I was an Origin then, if you hadn't already.”

 

“I didn’t hear any video call, actually.”  Reyna sounded slightly amused.  “I was locked in a cell in my organisation’s area headquarters fifteen minutes after I started torching the street last night.  It took a lot of debating for me to even get to school today.”

 

“Oh.”  Annabeth searched Reyna’s expression for any emotion at all, but it betrayed nothing.  Reyna had certainly perfected her poker face over her years of apparent rebellion against her organisation.  “So, I guess telling them that you’ve been talking to me would get you in more trouble.”

 

“Probably,” Reyna agreed.  “I’m not sure what else they can do to me, though.  I’ve already got these on for the next week.”  She glanced bitterly at her wrists.

 

“I didn't peg you as a rulebreaker,” Annabeth said, smirking a little.

 

Reyna smiled brightly.  “I only break the rules of constructs I disagree with.”

 

It was strange reasoning.  Annabeth had never quite been happy with her position, but her defiance had never gone further than sarcastic remarks.  She'd never explicitly disobeyed any orders from the organisation or Athena.

 

“Why would you disagree with a group who want to make you one of the most powerful people in the world?” she challenged.  She’d been asked almost the same question a year ago.

 

Reyna didn’t look anything less than certain as she replied, “You know exactly why.”

 

Annabeth thought back to her years of training; the way her lessons always seemed to focus on combat and defense rather than using her powers for any good, and the way that she always seemed to miss the lectures on never harming other people that the other kids frequently complained about.  She thought about how she'd felt when she first found out what she’d have to do when she turned sixteen.  She thought about the last few hours, in which she’d learned that her opponent for the Origin’s power would be a friend rather than a stranger.

 

“Yeah.  I guess I do.”

 

The silence dragged on long enough to be uncomfortable, and Annabeth added, “So, will we just go with the avoiding-each-other plan?”

 

Reyna shrugged.  “I feel like that will be impossible and awkward, but if you really want to…”

 

“What else are you implying?” Annabeth asked.

 

“If you lose in July, wouldn't you like someone to remember you for who you are?” Reyna said quickly.

 

Annabeth clenched and unclenched her fist.  “And vice versa?” she guessed.

 

Reyna didn’t acknowledge the question.  “Do you want that, or not?”

 

“I suppose so,” Annabeth admitted.  “But…”

 

“It can’t be any worse than seeing each other in July after months of doing our best to avoid one another,” Reyna reasoned.

 

“Alright,” Annabeth said eventually, wondering what she was getting herself into.

 

She would regret this, she knew.

 

Just not yet.

 

Reyna smiled a little; a genuine one this time, without any sarcasm or bitterness.  “Well, I’m Reyna and my aptitude is fire,” she said, mimicking the introduction template from the circle-time style meetings younger members of the organisations shared.

 

“I’m Annabeth, and my aptitude is water,” Annabeth said as Reyna jokingly extended a hand.

 

The hand paused in mid-air and Reyna gave Annabeth a look of slight distrust.  “Is that a joke?”

 

“What?  No.”  Annabeth flicked her wrist, allowing a tiny stream of water to twirl into the air and snatching it back, ignoring her conscience.  “Origins’ aptitudes aren’t always the same.”

 

Reyna looked mildly offended.  “I wasn’t told that.”

 

“I wasn't told what your aptitude was, either.  It’s meant to be kept secret from the other organisation.”  Annabeth gave a slightly sheepish smile.  Maybe she was more of a rulebreaker than she thought.

 

Reyna smiled back, and Annabeth tried her best not to blush.  “See you in P.E., tomorrow?”

 

* *

 

Annabeth threw the water against the mannequin, pushing it and tearing it away in violent ribbons, again and again until -

 

“Alright, Annabeth, that’s enough.”

 

There was an undertone of approval in Athena’s voice as she inspected the metal mannequin.  The water had made several dents in its surface, and ripped one arm off.

 

Annabeth tried to imagine what the same move would do to a person, and flinched.

 

“Impressive,” Athena mused.  She swiped a hand over the model’s chest, smoothing out the dents, and reattached the arm.  “You’re getting more accurate, and you don’t seem to tire as much.”

 

Annabeth hid the pace of her breathing, and said, “Why do I have to learn combat?”

 

Athena didn’t humour her with an answer.  “Do it again, but I want a limb off much faster.”

 

“That’s disgusting.”

 

“Deal with it.”

 

Turning back to the mannequin, Annabeth tried not to imagine Reyna’s face, and tore its head off.

 

Athena gave her an irritated glance.  “I said a limb.”

 

“I wanted to try the head,” Annabeth said, lightly.  “It’s Christmas Eve.  Why do I have to practise killing people?”

 

“Because in July you're going to regret every second you didn’t spend training… but I guess you're right.  You can take a break.”

 

Annabeth blinked.  “Really?”

 

“No.”  Athena smiled.  “Keep going.  A  _ limb _ , this time.”

 

* *

 

“I feel like someone will see us,” Annabeth said anxiously.

 

Walking quickly, Reyna grabbed her arm and continued skirting round the school walls.  “No one will.  We’d have to be in the school for the other Reds there to see us -”

 

“The  _ what _ ?”  Annabeth halted.  “You never said that there were other Reds in the school.”

 

Reyna tried to continue, realised Annabeth had stopped, and turned around.  “It’s not like they’ll recognise you.  Had you even seen a Red in your life before Bellona and I?”

 

Irritated, Annabeth grabbed Reyna’s hand and pulled her to the corner outside the school they’d been aiming for.  “It would have been helpful if you’d told me there were other people from your organisation  _ in the school _ .”

 

“Annabeth, they’re not in our year.”  Reyna looked frustrated.  “We’re only coming here because Bellona decided to publicly announce that I’m an Origin last night, and I’m not dealing with them here.”

 

She was staring pointedly at her hand.  Annabeth realised she was still holding it, flushed, and let go.

 

“Okay.  Sorry.”  Closing her eyes, Annabeth tried to calm herself.  “I’m sorry,” she said again.  “I’m just stressed.  All I’ve been doing for the last two months straight is combat, and it’s stuff I never want to use against a person, and…”

 

Reyna’s expression softened.  “Well, if you’re in a position where you’re winning in July, make it quick.”

 

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat.  She had dreaded this conversation since they first started talking.  “You, too,” she managed, and swallowed.  “It will be you, though.  You’re way stronger than me.”

 

To her surprise, Reyna shook her head.  “Not really.”  Annabeth raised an eyebrow, and she sighed and continued, “I caught you by surprise in December, and we have the exact same amount of power.  The organisations make sure of that when they present it from the Stone.”

 

Annabeth tried to form a reply, failed, and blinked away the dampness in her eyes.  She surprised herself by stepping forward and hugging Reyna instead.  Reyna only stiffened for a moment before hugging back.

 

“It’ll be alright.  We have six months,” Reyna said quietly.

 

Annabeth couldn’t tell whether her voice was muffled by her shoulder or by a sob.

 

* *

 

“I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to do that -”

 

Annabeth pushed through the changing room without responding.  Reyna quietened and followed.

 

When she reached the bathroom, she kicked the bin in front of the door and turned slowly to face Reyna.  Reyna opened her mouth, apparently thought better of what she was about to say, and stared back in silence.

 

Wincing, Annabeth pulled up the hem of her t-shirt, and groaned.  “How am I going to explain this to Athena?”

 

The burn wouldn’t be easy to hide.  It was palm-sized, bright red, and barely hidden by her over-sized gym shirt.

 

“God.”  Reyna took in the burn with an expression of horror, and looked away.  “Say you spilled coffee.  Or that there was an accident in your chemistry class.  I’m really, really sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Annabeth said tonelessly.  She formed cool water, and cupped her hands over the injury.  Their P.E. class had been given over to a local judo club, who had offered a taster session with plenty of advertising for the paid course. For the last fifteen minutes of the period, the class had been given the opportunity to try out their new skills with a classmate.

 

It turned out that Annabeth did, in fact, have around the same physical strength as Reyna.  It also turned out that Reyna couldn’t always control her powers.

 

“I’m just glad it was me and not someone else,” Annabeth finished weakly.

 

Biting her lip, Reyna said, “I’m not sure that would have happened with someone else.”

 

Annabeth blinked twice, and decided not to push the subject.  The burn stung.  “I just…”  She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to word what she wanted to say.  “I don’t understand how you could do that unintentionally.  When I’m training, the most important parts are always my focus and control and accuracy.  I couldn’t  _ accidentally _ summon water.”

 

“I wasn’t taught much about control,” Reyna admitted.  “The Reds’ reasoning was that if I won the Origin’s power, I’d have to relearn it anyway, so my training’s always about stamina and strength.”  She shrugged, looking pained.  “I guess I’ve been conditioned into using fire when I’m angry or exerting myself, but…  when we walk into that arena, I’m only going to be thinking about how I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Annabeth couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the situation.  “We’re in such a mess.”

 

“Do you regret it?” Reyna asked, softly.

 

The atmosphere shifted with her words, and Annabeth met Reyna’s eyes.  “Not at all.”

 

Letting her hands fall away from her waist, Annabeth took a step forward.  Reyna hesitated, before brushing a loose curl away from Annabeth’s face and leaning in.

 

Kissing Reyna was hot and frantic and slightly desperate.  It left Annabeth struggling to remember how to breathe.

 

Seconds dragged on into something timeless and perfect, and Annabeth pulled away, planting a kiss on Reyna’s collarbone.  “We’re so stupid.”

 

“Mmhmm.”  Reyna took a moment to manage something more coherent.  “If this is a thing, we have a month left, and I intend to make the most of it.”

 

Annabeth smiled into Reyna’s neck.  “We should probably get changed.”

  
  


* *

 

Annabeth threw a wall of water at the mannequin, tensing and shaping it into sharp ribbons at the last moment.  The exertion left her arms trembling.

 

“I haven’t seen another human being in a fortnight,” she said bitterly.

 

Athena rolled her eyes.  “You’ve seen me.  Anyway, it’s deliberate.”

 

Since the start of the summer break, any time Annabeth hadn’t spent in their small flat was at a closed-off Blue training ground.  The lack of human interaction was slowly making her feel detached from the rest of the world, and she was beginning to wonder if that was Athena’s intention.

 

“Will I do it again?” she asked, raising her hands.

 

Athena hesitated, and said, “Actually, no.  Can I talk to you about something?”

 

Confused, Annabeth nodded.  Athena motioned for her to join her across the room.

 

“I’ve told you what job I did for the organisation before I chose to look after you, haven’t I?”

 

Annabeth thought for a moment.  “Yeah.  You fixed machinery.”

 

Athena confirmed it.  “Most of the metal aptitudes were in children, and they needed people to take care of the factories.  It was a very indirect job; I didn’t see many other Blues.  It meant I had a little more, ah, freedom than others, though.  I was allowed to befriend and spend time with people who weren’t part of an organisation.”

 

“Were you allowed to have relationships?” Annabeth asked.

 

“Of course not,” Athena dismissed.  “But… around seventeen years ago, I met someone.  His name was Frederick; he was a professor, a very smart one, and we got along well.  Too well.  We just didn’t realise it had gotten to that point before it was too late.”

 

“But no one with powers is allowed -”

 

“Do you think I didn’t know that?”  Athena winced at her own harsh tone.  “Sorry.  Anyway, it wasn’t hard to hide from the organisation, so I just didn’t tell him who I was.  We dated for a few months.  Then I found out I was pregnant.”

 

Annabeth swallowed.  “Oh, my god.”

 

“Annabeth, you’re atheist,” Athena said.  “Of course, we considered an abortion.  But I knew we wouldn’t be able to last; the kids with metal power lines would grow up, and I’d be moved to a more central position.  Perhaps it was selfish, but I wanted something to live on of our relationship.  I decided to go through with the pregnancy and give the baby up for adoption.”

 

She smiled, but it didn’t hold any happiness.  “I went into labour on the due date, and I was still with Frederick at the time.  I was lucky; it was quick and there were no complications.  I… I said I was going to the bathroom, and I left the hospital.”

 

Athena blinked furiously, and Annabeth glanced at her in surprise.  Athena didn’t meet her gaze.  “That day, an Origin stone was found on a riverbank not far from here.”

 

Annabeth’s heart rate quickened.

 

“I went along to the presentation of powers.  The Reds chose a baby girl from Puerto Rico; her father couldn’t have cared less about his new daughter, and her mother had died during the birth. The Blues…”  Athena closed her eyes.  “The Blues chose a girl from a local hospital, whose mother had walked out and whose father couldn’t raise a child.”

 

Everything Annabeth had been brought up believing seemed to crash down around her.  “You’re my mother?”

 

Nodding, Athena took her hand.  “Members of organisations don’t get a chance to have biological children.  The closest we can legally get is by adopting a baby who’s been chosen to inherit a power line.”  She wiped her eyes, and Annabeth pretended not to notice.  “Most people wouldn’t adopt an Origin because of the extra training involved, and, well, the second ceremony.  I didn’t expect to have a chance to keep you.  I had to take it.”

 

Annabeth took a long breath, then another.  “Why are you only telling me now?”

 

“You know why.”

 

She did.  The ceremony was a week away.

 

Annabeth hugged her mother and let herself cry.

 

* *

 

“Good luck.”

 

The words were too simple, too hopeful, to ease Annabeth’s rioting emotions, but she tried for a smile anyway.  “Thanks.  I’ll need it.”

 

Brushing away the strand of hair that always fell across Annabeth’s face, Athena shook her head.  “You have the ability to win this.”

 

Did she?  Perhaps.  If the girl who would be on the other side of the arena was a stranger.

 

Annabeth swallowed.  “Well, just in case… thank you.”

 

“For what?”  

 

“Everything.”  Annabeth ignored the knot in her throat.  “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Athena said, finishing the sentence with a hug.  The words were constricted.  As she pulled away, she said, “I have to go.  Annabeth, trust your conscience and your instincts.  I’ll see you later.”

 

Annabeth flashed Athena a questioning glance, but she was already leaving.  Resigning herself, Annabeth leaned against the wall of the small chamber and waited.

 

What kind of advice was that?  Athena knew how Annabeth felt about the ceremony.  Her conscience was the one thing she’d have to ignore for the rest of her life.

 

Eventually, an assistant entered.  He glanced over Annabeth wordlessly, then opened a different set of doors.

 

Slowly, Annabeth walked through to what she guessed was the arena.  The doors swung shut behind her.  The room was large, circular, and empty; the only decorations were the curved mirrors on the wall.  She blinked at her reflection, realised they were likely two-way, and shifted her gaze to the opposite side of the room.

 

Together, Reyna and Annabeth had decided that whoever won the ceremony would admit that they had known each other at school, but claim that they had no idea the other was an Origin.  They’d befriended each other through similarities, and hadn’t caught each other’s faces during that night in December.

 

The story would hopefully be believable; it wasn’t too far from the truth, in any case.  It allowed them to show some hesitation during the fight, and to grieve afterwards.

 

It didn’t make it hurt any less.

 

After a minute or so, more doors opened, and Reyna stepped through.  Annabeth took a sharp breath.  She looked tired, and thinner than she had been before the summer break started.  Reyna looked up through shadowed eyes, any reaction carefully masked.

 

Annabeth ignored her racing heart and waited for the buzzer.

 

When it came, neither girl moved for a few painful seconds.  Annabeth bit back her reservations and summoned water, giving enough time for Reyna to defend herself before she attacked.

 

Her move was a relatively weak one, but Reyna still had to drop into a roll to avoid being slammed into the wall.  She immediately retaliated with a burst of flames which Annabeth barely dodged.

 

Annabeth had only seen Reyna use fire once; from a distance, when her intention had been to cause chaos rather than harm.  This was entirely different.  She wielded her power with the precision and elegance and deadliness of a bird of prey.

 

It would have been beautiful to watch, had Reyna not been trying to kill her.

 

However, it was scarily easy to attack when it was in the form of defence.  Annabeth found herself lashing out with more violence each time, and it wasn’t solely to keep herself safe.  Something inside her rose up - something desperate to use as much power as possible.  Something desperate to win.

 

Would it really be so bad?  This was what Athena had trained her for.  This was what she had been raised to do since she was an infant.

 

Wanting to win was natural.

 

_ No _ .  It wasn’t.  There was nothing natural about Annabeth’s power; nothing natural about the organisations, nor the way they’d manipulated elements themselves to create superhumans.  Her thirst for violence was an inevitable coincidence of something entirely artificial.

 

She still had to fight.

 

Annabeth’s senses opened up past the pure instinct she’d been running on.  She began to notice the burns appearing on her body, and the pain building in her lungs.   

 

More alarmingly, Reyna’s steps were slower, and her attacks weaker than they had been before.  Her expression was laced with pain, and Annabeth had to bite back a sob.  She hadn’t meant to  _ hurt _ her.

 

No.  She had.

 

What had happened to the last seven months?  There were too many memories to count; of smiles and shared laughter, of whispered conversations and stolen kisses.  Their friendship, and what it had turned into, had been formed on the shaky foundation of its inevitable conclusion.  Annabeth had just drastically misinterpreted what it meant.

 

Annabeth stopped fighting.

 

Almost immediately, the room filled with fire; bright and deadly and blocking everything else out of her vision.   Hastily, Annabeth created a shield which instantly began to steam, and squinted through the flames.

 

Looking ethereal and terrifying in the light, Reyna stepped through the wall of fire.  “Annabeth, I won’t fight you if you won’t defend yourself,” she pleaded.  “Only one of us is leaving this room.”

 

“I don’t want to do this,” Annabeth snapped, knowing how unreasonable and childish she sounded.

 

She had been stubborn since she was a child, and until now it had always resulted in her getting her own way.  Was she really asking for too much, this time?

 

“Neither do I, but there’s no way out of here.”  Reyna had to raise her voice to be heard over the fire’s roar.

 

Annabeth glanced to the side, and realised Reyna had created the flames to hide them from the two-way mirrors.  She walked forward.  “There might be.”

 

Reyna closed the gap, and said, “No one’s ever managed it.”

 

“No one’s ever  _ tried _ ,” Annabeth corrected.  She took Reyna’s free hand in her own, and a strange feeling coursed through her veins.  “What if we can?  What if we can both live, and do something about this system?”

 

Expression sliding from fear to hope to a steely resolution in a matter of seconds, Reyna nodded.   “If you want to try, I’ll be right behind you.”

 

Annabeth kissed her.  It tasted like smoke and tears and pain, and she wasn’t sure whether she was dizzy from the kiss or the heat.   “Okay.”

 

Determined, Reyna set her jaw.  “Get back.”

 

The flames vanished, and Annabeth stumbled backwards.  She barely had time to throw Reyna a questioning glance before she’d thrown a ball of white-hot fire at the wall, missing Annabeth by inches.

 

The wall crumbled into ashes.

 

Without missing a beat, Reyna leapt across the floor and into the small hallway she’d made an entrance to.  It was cramped and empty, holding only a staircase and a locked door.  Reyna made for the door, and placed her palm over the handle.

 

“Reyna, there are people in there -”

 

“I’m only melting the lock.  They’ll be fine.”  Reyna grimaced and took her hand away, and Annabeth noticed how tired she looked.  “If we manage to get out of here, we’ll be on the run for the rest of our lives.”

 

Annabeth swallowed.  “Not necessarily.  They can’t look for us publicly; exposing the organisations would mean every Red and Blue getting killed by someone who wanted power.  They rely on members’ loyalty, and we have no intention of coming back.  We can run, and maybe the scandal will change how the organisations work.”

 

It was unlikely, and uncharacteristically optimistic.  Annabeth couldn’t help but think about the possible futures she’d just destroyed; a life of being one of the most powerful people on earth, of obeying people’s orders without question and building a better relationship with Athena.

 

“Anyway,” she added, biting back her doubts.  “I think that we’ll be okay as long as we’re with each other.”

 

Reyna smiled slightly, and squeezed Annabeth’s hand, eyeing the staircase.  “Don’t let go.”

  
They ran without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! you should leave a comment if you liked it ;))


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